Becca's Moments

Chapter Eleven

Kayden

The sound of birds chirping stirred me out of my sleep. I turned on my back and opened my eyes.

Only two hours of sleep again.

I reached under my pillow to grab my phone and saw a few texts from the boys. I sent a few replies and got out of bed with a yawn.

I knew I had work, but fuck it. Today I would take my time. After brushing my teeth, I stepped into the shower and let the hot water run over me.

My head was still hazy from bunning the night before. It'd been a long time since I really indulged. Lemon haze was my favourite, but now my brain felt scattered and my body was sluggish. After the job yesterday, it made sense to keep some for myself. After all, I'd worked hard for it.

I was dressed half an hour later and went downstairs to the kitchen to grab something to eat. The house was quiet. I grabbed a bowl and fetched cereal from the cupboard, wincing at the mild throbbing in my skull.

Fuck. My head was killing.

I sat at the table. Yesterday's events played through my mind as I ate. Something happened, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

What was it to do with? Whatever it was, it was niggling at the back of my mind.

Was it Rebecca? She was here or something. I recalled her coming to visit, and she was in my room. She didn't stay long. But why?

"Shit," I groaned, cradling my forehead.

"Oh, you're still here?" I heard Dad before I saw him. He entered fully dressed in his work suit and munching on a piece of toast. "You not working today?"

"Day off," I lied, taking another spoonful.

Dad hummed. "You look mash up. Wah'um?"

"Had a late night," I half-lied. Truthfully the lemon and ammo had fucked me up; my vision was still blurry and my head was swimming.

He approached the cupboard and pulled something small out, stuffing it in his pocket. "Hope you make this day productive, instead of sitting roun' here like some bum."

"Alright."

"And I don't mean running roun' doing foolishness either."

I rubbed my forehead. "Yeah."

He stepped closer and rested his hand on my head then laughed. "When are you gonna cut this tough head? It's grown way too long."

"I'm letting it grow out." I moved my head from under his heavy hand. "You let yours grow when you were my age."

"Yeah, till your mum told me to cut it."

"That's where we're different. No girl can make me cut my hair."

He chuckled. "Alright, big man. One day you'll cut it and look just like me."

"I don't wanna look old."

He kissed his teeth. "Man's only 32."

My migraine grew stronger. Worst thing about having young parents was the fact that they thought they could chat the way I did. Using my generation's slang was a criminal offence, but they did it anyway. Dad was the primary culprit; always saying words like skeen and peak.

"I keep telling you you're way past your prime." I ate another spoonful, my head still feeling light.

He laughed and slapped me on the back in the fatherly way he always did. Then he leaned closer and stared at the gash above my eyebrow.